She toddles
as she gets up
and hurries to
the phone
careful not to
lose her balance
and fall…again.

I watch from my
chair next to hers
where we had been
talking moments
before and notice
she has left her
cane behind…again.

In a few short months
we have become trusted
friends and I have listened
to the stories of her extravagant
and privileged life.  Strong-willed
she chose differently for her
life than her parents.

She eloped with the love of her life.
She filled her home with children,
knowing that an only child’s
life…even though a life of
opulence could be a lonely one.

Now her life has been reduced,
diminished, moderated by
old age and ill health.
Once so vibrant and engaged
with life and doing…for others,
she now relies on them and
marvels at the state that her
life has become.  And yet
she still has a sense of humor
and giggles and shakes
her head to think that she is the
mother of a now seventy year old.

She heaps me with compliments
as she eyes what I’ve worn each
time we meet and tells me I’m
“adorable” and “precious”.  Once
dressed impeccably as the wife
of a successful executive and
as the daughter of a wealthy
entrepreneur, dressing gowns
and robes are now her attire.

Still feeling the sting
of wanting more of her parents’
love and attention as a child,
she tells me again and again
of how she would often be
left with maids and chauffeurs.

Even many passing years
don’t always alleviate the
slights of our youth.

Tony Maude is hosting Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets:



Photo by TheFoxandtheRaven

The steady rain drenched her,
sweet drops mixed with
her salty, hot tears…was
she still even crying?
She had suppressed her feelings
her entire life…her despair,
her disappointment, her
humiliation and anger.
Even smiles and joy
had been tempered with
reservation and uncertainty.
Tonight, a flood of emotions
Came like the rain, unstoppable.
A strength she didn’t know she
possessed, a power from within
took a firm grasp and she finally
Gave them a voice before
she turned and walked out the
door.  “No, you can’t hurt me
any longer.  I won’t allow it.”

Joining in with Magpie Tales for Mag #158 using the above photo as a prompt:

You Used To Sing

You used to sing
When your heart was light
Your voice so harmonious
When life was easier

I remember that time
When your heart sang too
Joy came visiting
More often than now

Your voice went silent
Many years ago
Tunes of resentment
Are your music instead

Now fear has crept in
Pain has joined too
They’ve settled in deep
Happiness pushed out

No longer able
No longer can
Simple tasks
Bring you grief

Face contorted
With anguished woe
You’ve clutched so tight
To your suffering,
It’s made its home
Within your bones

And with your acceptance
It’s come right in
Can’t let it go
It’s become a friend,
A crutch, a tool
To have its way

We try our best
To give you help
To serve and attend
And offer assist
But your bitterness flies
And attacks our worth

Our spirit crushes
Underneath the assault

Poor, poor mother
We fill up with compassion
Such a dilemma…
We wish you well

I submit a revised version of a poem I posted previously; Victoria C. Slotto invites us to try our hand at writing in second person over at dVerse Poets:

Bodhirose's Blog

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copyright 2013 - no reuse without permission ( see for fiction and fantasy )

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